


The best view comes after the hardest climb

by hopelessly_me



Category: Marvel
Genre: 911 tower challenge, Bucky's got the best support group, Clint is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Paramedic Bucky, Soft Boys, background Maria/Nat, fireman Clint, reminiscing on a tragic event, somber Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me
Summary: On the ten year anniversary of 9/11, Bucky finally joined his support group in participating in the 911 Tower Challenge.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	The best view comes after the hardest climb

**Author's Note:**

> For my Winterhawk Bingo square N1 "Firefighter AU".

What should have been a solemn day was turning out to be too loud with too much laughter, too much smiling, and it was making Bucky’s skin crawl. He knew people grieved in different ways, hell, he encouraged people to take their time recovering from whatever they were going through. But there was nothing about today and it’s anniversary that would even make Bucky feel any sense of cheer. He had lost friends, coworkers- he had almost lost his sister, and the images and sounds from that day still burned in his mind, still produced nightmares that left him shaken and unsteady.

So seeing his friends smiling, cracking jokes? It filled him with a weird sense of survivor's guilt. He wanted to be quiet, mournful, because they had all lost people. But those people they had lost- they would have wanted this, right? They would have wanted them to go on with their lives, smile and love and try to find glimmers of hope.

“Babe?” Bucky looked over at Clint as he put his bunker gear on. “You know you can go home, right?” he asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice, handling Bucky with the exact level of care Bucky craved before it became overbearing. “Or maybe go to the park? You can go to that shop down the street and pick me up some coffee.”

“No. I want to do this,” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice calm and low, trying not to have the others look at him.

Clint gave him a sympathetic smile before he pulled on his tshirt, the same one he has worn for damn close to eight years now. All the names written in a careful row, lining up so that from a distance it looked like the towers. It was his own personal hell, Bucky thought- Clint’s own burden to bear was to remember the names of those he lost and to show their names every year to make others remember too. It didn’t matter that his thick jacket was pulled on soon after, Bucky knew it was under it all, and that was gut wrenching enough.

“You look like you’re ready to run,” Clint commented, zipping and buckling, making sure his gear was attached correctly. The last thing on was his old helmet- the one from that day, scarred, partially melted in spots, the dark smoke layers never really coming out despite Clint’s best effort.

“Run up some stairs maybe,” Bucky shot back, trying for Clint’s benefit to come out of his self-misery a little bit. “At least I don’t have to do it while wearing all of that. You’re going to pass out.”

“You say that every year,” Clint said with a laugh, though it never reached his eyes. One of the few days in a calendar year that Clint’s smiles never really shone as bright as normal. “If I didn’t pass out that day, I’m not gonna pass out today.”

“You’re a good ten years older now, fire boy,” Bucky taunted. Clint rolled his eyes and grabbed Bucky’s dog tags, tugging on them gently, encouraging him closer for a quick kiss. “Anyway- I haven’t done this yet.”

“It’s literally going to feel like regret,” Clint warned with a lopsided grin. “Over two thousand stairs. It’s not easy.” Clint’s smile lessened a little. “Year five of doing it but… still sucks.”

“Yeah- it really does,” Bucky agreed, knowing the last bit wasn’t completely about the Tower Challenge.

Ten years since 9/11, and Bucky knew everyone had their demons that were in that back room, some putting on their gear, some wearing scrubs, some in police uniforms. Bucky had just gotten out of the military, had become a civilian paramedic when the towers fell. He was still new to the crew, and no matter how much training you have, nothing can really prepare you for an event of that level.

He had met Clint two years after 9/11, when he had shown up to the support group, mostly dragged in by Natasha. He had been a firefighter for four years, only twenty-four when the towers fell. He had been helping with evacuations, and then helped with the rescue and recovery efforts. His dog, Lucky, was one of the dogs at the scene, now enjoying the old retirement life.

Then five years ago, they started participating in the challenge. Climbing the stairs replicating those from inside the towers. Bucky wasn’t sure it was all that healthy for them, but Clint  _ thrived  _ with it. So every year a few more members of their support group would join in, until, eventually, Bucky agreed. It helped knowing that it was a charity event, knowing he was raising money for people whose lives were changed by the events.

“You boys ready?” Maria asked, arm slung around her girlfriend, Natasha. Maria and Natasha both were in the police force when the towers came down.

“To work up a sweat and have major regrets? Yep!” Clint answered cheerfully, shifting his jacket a little.

It was weird seeing all of his friends wearing their uniforms. Maria, Natasha, Carol, Rhodes, and Sam in their police gear. Steve, Clint, and Thor in their bunker gear, knocking heads as they walked out. Bucky lingered back with Bruce, Tony and Peter, all in their scrubs, all from different ends of the medical profession. He recognized other faces in the mix that had shown up for the day, all survivors and workers, all ready to do the work their fallen couldn’t.

“Hey. Saved ya one next to me,” Clint offered, finding a stairclimber, reaching over to tap the one next to him.

“You’re going to talk while dying, aren’t you?” Bucky asked. Clint flashed him a wicked smirk before his hands settled on either side of his machine.

There was a speech, longer than normal on the ten year anniversary. Bucky swallowed back all the emotions that came bubbling up, looked at the ceiling, tried to focus out. Clint’s gloved hand came to rest over his and Bucky looked over at the small reassuring smile before he nodded.

The worst part wasn’t the speech at all. The worst part was a few hundred stairs in, his scrubs already started to soak from the effort. Bucky had thought the laughter and chatter was too much, but now the silence, the heavy breathing- that was the worst of it. It was bringing back too many memories, too many snippets from his life flashing by when he had only focused on someone’s breathing.

Clint’s hand reached over again and settled on Bucky’s, leaning awkwardly as he did so. “Almost halfway done,” he said, breathless but lively. And for the first time that day Clint smiled a bright smile that lit up his entire face. “I know it’s hard but you’ve got this.”

“How… are you... talking?” Bucky asked with a grumble, the extra breathing making him want to drop down.

“Been in worse situations where I’ve had to talk, remember?” Clint asked. Bucky frowned more and looked away. “It sucks but… I’d rather encourage you to push on then let you suffer silently.”

“That and he never shuts up,” Sam added.

“That too,” Clint agreed with an airy laugh. That grin was still on his face when he looked over. “Want me to sing? I bet I could sing.”

“Not really,” Tony snorted.

“Bullshit!” Clint exclaimed and a few more of them were smiling and laughing. “I bet I sound like Beyoncé. What are we singing?” Clint asked. “Someone shout something out.”

“Don’t stop believin’,” Natasha supplied and Bucky could  _ feel _ the mischievousness in her eyes, it became infectious as he started to smile as well.

“Hell yeah! I love that song!” Clint said. He let go of Bucky’s hand and started to drum on the sides of his machine. “Just a small town girl. Livin’ in a lonely world-“ 

It was, honestly, the worst singing Bucky had heard yet from Clint. He already couldn’t carry a tune to save his life but combine that with exercise? It was pitchy, breathless and quiet before getting too loud, all over the place. But that was the best thing about Clint- he didn’t  _ care _ . He didn’t care if he couldn’t sing, or if other people were around as he sang off key. He didn’t care that someone had pulled out their cell phone.

But then the voices grew. Thor had joined in, followed by Steve. Then Sam, Maria, even Bruce joined in. Soon enough, the once nearly silent gym was filled with a song that Bucky would commonly sing drunkenly, Clint and him stumbling home from the bar, shouting it at the top of their lungs.

It didn’t stop there. Someone started up  _ Super Bass _ , then  _ Party in the USA _ , and Bucky lost track of who was singing what, who was joining in, who was laughing. He reached over his machine and held onto Clint’s hand, squeezing it three times. The smile he got was worth the burning in his lungs, and the way his legs wobbled.

The beeper on his machine sounded and the steps slowed. Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or to rejoice. 2071 stairs climbed. And as a chorus of beepers went off, everyone cheered and high fives each other, hopping down from machines, hugging each other. A few took the remainder of their water and dumped it over their heads, shaking their hair and laughing.

Bucky jumped down from his machine and moved over, helping Clint off of his. With the cheesiest, sappiest grin on his face, Clint held onto Bucky after he took his gloves and helmet off. “Do you know how to do CPR, because you take my breath away.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky laughed before he kissed him.


End file.
